Bad Days are Coming
by Lament
Summary: The team investigates the death of a police officer. Will eventually be Speed-Calleigh. Chapter 4 is up.
1. Officer Down

Title:  Bad Days Are Coming

Disclaimer:  They're not mine.  I'm not making any money.

Author's Notes:  Apologies to anyone who read the version of this story that I put up last night.  I decided it just wasn't working, so I pulled it and revised it.  Anyway, I tend to write dark, angsty stuff, and this is no exception.  This will be Speed-Calleigh later on.  At least, that's the plan.

*****

I pull into a gas station and find Horatio and Eric waiting for us.  Us being me and Calleigh.  We're here to investigate a double homicide.  From the way Eric sounded on the phone, I'd say we're going to walk in there and find someone pretty important.  

"Well, let's get to it," Calleigh says cheerfully.  Sometimes I think she likes this job a little too much.

As we're climbing out of the car, Horatio walks over.  "Speed, Calleigh," he nods in acknowledgement. "I want the two of you to be extra-careful while you're in there."

"What's up?" I ask.

He lets out a breath and lowers his voice.  "Well, we have a gas station attendant, and we have a police officer."

Calleigh and I glance at each other.  We're both wondering the same thing.  

"Anybody we know?"  Calleigh asks.

Horatio crosses his arms.  "It's Matt Evans."

Well, that's that.  We know him.  Knew him. I didn't hang out with him or anything.  But I saw him around.  And I worked a case or two with him.  He was a nice guy.  Sometimes I really dislike this job. 

"Well, let's get to it," Calleigh says, this time somberly.

As the three of us trudge toward the entrance to the gas station, I turn to Calleigh and say, "It's going to be a bad day, isn't it?"

*****

I'm crouched down on the floor, packing up the last of our gear.  Calleigh's standing over by the counter, just looking around the room. She seems a little shaky, so I start to ask her if she's all right.  But before I have a chance, she grabs hold of the counter and raises one hand to her head.  

I stand up and walk over to her.  "Hey, Cal.  You all right?"

"Whoa," she says, sounding a little embarrassed.  "I don't know what came over me.  I guess I got a little light-headed."

"Maybe you should go outside," I say.

"Oh, no.  No, I'm fine."  She turns to face me.  Putting one hand on my chest for support, she says, "I usually don't react like this."

"Calleigh, you don't have to explain anything."

Calleigh's one of the toughest people I know.  She's seen, and even been through a lot of life's nastier stuff.  She doesn't have to explain a thing to anyone.  

At that point, Horatio walks over.  "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Calleigh says.  "I got a little dizzy."

"Why don't you head outside?" Horatio suggests. "We're almost finished in here."

Fortunately, Calleigh doesn't try to argue with the boss.  She just nods, and then reluctantly heads toward the door.

As Calleigh leaves, Horatio turns to me. "How much do you have to finish up?" 

"I'm about done, H."

He glances around the room.  "All right.  Good. Eric's interviewing the last witness."

"Any leads on a suspect?" I ask, kneeling down to finish packing our gear.

"Well," he says.  "We have a description."  He stands quietly for a moment, and then lets out a breath.  "I had lunch with him last week . . . Matt."

I glance up.  "I didn't know you knew him that well."

"We've known each other for a few years," Horatio says. "He had a wife and two kids."

I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything.

"You never know, do you?" Horatio says. 

Standing up, I shake my head.  "No, you don't. That's why I don't bother to get close to anybody."


	2. Preliminary Meeting

Title: Bad Days Are Coming

Chapter 2

*****

"Okay, so what have we got?"  Horatio leans forward in his chair and looks at Eric.

Eric shifts in his seat.  Probably day dreaming or something.  

"Um . . . We got a description, H," Eric says.  "White male, early thirties, blonde hair, dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt."

"Well," Speed says.  "That narrows it down."

Speed leans back in his chair and lets out a breath.  As usual, he has a disgruntled look on his face.  Tim Speedle has the "angry young man" routine down cold.

Eric nods in agreement, and then opens up a file.  "There's something else, too," he says. "The place was robbed.  But, one of the witnesses claims that the suspect seemed to be gunning for Lt. Evans specifically."

"How so?" Horatio asks, looking interested.  

Lt. Matt Evans was a friend of his.  I remember him telling me that the first time I worked on a case with Matt.

"Well," Eric says.  "The witness told me that the guy walked right up to Evans, and that Evans got this look on his face like he knew him.  And then the guy shot him."

"Do other witnesses corroborate this?" 

"No one else was close enough to see Evans' face.  But one other witness says that the suspect shot Evans with no provocation."

I lean forward.  "Is it possible the suspect knew Matt was a police officer?  Maybe they'd had a run-in before?"

"Possible," Horatio says.  "What have you got, Calleigh?"

"I'm still waiting on Alexx to give me the bullets," I say.  "They're swamped down there."

"Do they know it's a cop?"

"Yes, Horatio," I say patiently.

He exhales and turns to Speed.  "How about you?"

"All the blood at the scene belongs to the victims," Speed says without expression.  "I found some dirt. One of Delko's witnesses said the suspect's shoes were filthy. But I'm still waiting on the results."

"Okay," Horatio says.  He looks like he's going to say something else; but instead, he just sits there.  Finally, he clears his throat and stands up.  "Calleigh, let me know about the bullets.  And Speed, Eric, keep me updated."

I watch Horatio leave, and then I sigh.  "Well, I guess I'd better go check with Alexx."

Speed follows me out of the break room.  "Hey, Calleigh," he says.  "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"  I ask.

He shrugs, and looks around uncomfortably.  "Earlier."

"Oh, that."  I got a little light-headed while we were at the scene.  I've been to I don't know how many of those scenes, and usually, I don't react like that.  But then again, maybe that's what's bothering me.  Maybe I've just seen one too many people I know lying on a dirty floor, in a pool of blood. "I'm all right, Tim," I say.

"If you . . . need to talk or anything . . ."

"Thanks," I smile weakly.

He nods, and then disappears down the hall.  I wonder what he would have said if I'd taken him up on that talk.  Speed can be a sweet guy when he wants to.  But I can't see him handling the touchy-feely stuff.  It seems like he keeps everything bottled up most of the time.

I know he's been through some pretty rough things during his life, and I can relate to wanting to just shut down and protect yourself.  

*****

A while later, I walk into Horatio's office.  Tapping lightly on the door, I say, "Got your bullets."

He glances up from his paperwork.  "Good, come on in." 

"The bullets were fired from a .357 Magnum," I say. "Unregistered."

 "Of course it is," Horatio says with a half-smile.  He checks his watch.  "Are you heading home?  Your shift was over forty minutes ago."

"Well," I say.  "I wanted to get this done."  Not to mention the fact that I really don't want to go home and think about the day's events.  

He nods, then leans forward to look around me.  "Hi there, Speed."

"Hey, H," Speed nods.  

"What can I do for you?"

  
Speeds leans against the doorframe.  "Nothing, I was just waiting for Calleigh."

I narrow my eyes.  "Oh!" I say suddenly.  I turn to Horatio.  "My car's in the shop.  Speed's my ride."  I put my hand on Speed's arm.  "I am so sorry.  I just caught up in my work."

Speed almost smiles. Almost. "Well, that's unlike you.  You ready?"

"Yeah," I say.  "Let's get out of here."


	3. Disconnections

Title: Bad Days Are Coming

Chapter 3

*****

"You don't mind, do you Speed?"

I do, actually.  

"No," I shrug. "I gotta eat, right?" 

Calleigh's car is in the shop, so I gave her a ride home.  On the way, she wanted to stop at a Chinese place and grab dinner.  That was all fine.  I even ordered something for myself.  But now, she wants me to stay at her place and eat with her.

Don't get me wrong.  I like Calleigh.  But I'd rather go home and sit in a dark corner.  

Delko says I'm antisocial.  He's probably right.  In fact, he's definitely right.  But I think I've got plenty of good reasons to justify my being that way.  I've lost most everyone I've ever cared about, so I've learned not to care.  

Recently, I broke my own rule, and I got emotionally involved with a witness.  This kid, Wally.  He was lonely and depressed and scared to live his life.  I don't know.  Maybe I saw myself in him.

The point is, though, I let him in.  And he killed himself.  

Calleigh holds her front door open so I can carry the food to the table. "I'm glad you're staying," she says.  "I really don't want to be alone."

For a moment, I think about telling her that Delko would be better company, but I don't.  As much as I'd rather be alone thinking about how much my life sucks, Calleigh needs me. 

"This case has you shook up, huh?" I ask.

She nods.  "I guess."  Walking over to her refrigerator, Calleigh pulls out a couple cans of iced tea.  "This all right?" She asks.

"Yeah," I nod.  "That's fine.  Do you have real silverware?"

"Don't do chopsticks?" She asks, with a knowing grin.  

"Not quite," I say.  

"There in the left-hand drawer."

"Did you know him well?" I ask.

"Matt?  I sort of knew him.  I went to something at someone's house about a year ago, and I remember I met his wife."  Calleigh sits down and starts rifling through the bags, pulling out food.  "I worked some cases with him."

I nod.  "I worked a couple.  I didn't talk to him much."

"Well, you don't talk to anyone much," she says matter-of-factly.

I frown.  "I'm talking to you."

"Yeah," she concedes.  "But how many times have you and I been out socially?"

"Going out socially and talking to someone are two different things."

She lets out a long-suffering sigh.  "Well, my point was that you keep people at arms length."

I shrug.

She licks her lips.  "Speed, I'm sorry I spaced out on you at the scene today."

"You don't have to apologize," I say.

"I just don't know what came over me." She takes a sip of iced tea.  "This isn't the first time I've worked a case where the db is someone I know."

I swallow a mouthful of noodles. "Sometimes you don't know what's going to affect you," I say. "I mean, sometimes it's the weirdest stuff."

"I guess you're right," she says.

I take a long look at Calleigh.  If I had to guess what's really bothering her, I'd guess she's worried that her spell at the crime scene made her look weak. Calleigh seems to think she has to be superhuman or people won't like her.

"Look, Cal," I say.  "You got dizzy."  I pause and then add, "Eric and I do stupid stuff.  When you start acting like us, then you have a problem."

Calleigh smiles.  She's got a pretty smile. "Thanks, Speed," she says.

We eat in silence for about a minute.  Then she wants to talk again.  "So," she says.  "What do you usually do after work?"

"What do you mean?"

She shovels a spoonful of rice into her mouth, and holds a finger up to tell me she'll talk after she swallows.  "Okay," she says finally.  "What was I saying?  Oh, what do you do when you're not at work?  Do you go out?"

Not if I can help it.  

"Not really," I say.

She narrows her eyes.  "Well, what do you do?  Just sit at home alone?"

I nod.  "Mostly."

"And I thought I had a lousy social life."

I smile.  "So I'm the high point of your social life?"

"Pretty much," she grins.  

"Well," I say.  "Then maybe you _do_ have a problem."

She cocks her head and stares at me like she's trying to figure something out.  Finally, she leans forward and asks, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

I stare at her.  This is getting way too personal. 

Laughing, she says, "It's just a question."

"No, Calleigh," I say wearily. "I don't have a girlfriend."

She doesn't say anything, so I return to my noodles and fried crab.

"Do you have any hobbies?"

I glance up.  Hobbies?  Is she kidding?

"Calleigh," I say, a little too shortly.  "I go to work.  I come home.  I eat.  I sit on the floor in the corner of my living room, in the dark, and listen to music and brood about life until I'm ready to go to bed.  That's my life."

She opens her mouth like she's about to say something, but she doesn't.  Turning her attention back to her food, she quietly starts to eat her last egg roll.


	4. Togetherness

Title: Bad Days Are Coming

Chapter 4

*****

"Eric," I call to the man retreating down the hall.  "Don't forget about me tonight."

He smiles, "Don't worry, Cal.  You're unforgettable."

I roll my eyes.  "You did _not_ just say that."

Laughing, he turns to leave. "Oh, hey," he says, stopping suddenly.  "I have to leave right when the shift is over. All right?"

"Hot date?"

"The hottest," he grins.

Shaking my head, I cross my arms and watch him walk away. It's out of Eric's way to pick me up and take me home, but he seems happy to do it—unlike someone I know.  All I have to worry about is whether he's going to flake out on me or make me late, both of which are always possibilities with Eric.

Letting out a breath, I turn to leave and run—literally—into Speed.  He grabs me by the shoulders to steady me.

"I would have picked you up, you know," he says.  His face is expressionless, but his tone is accusatory.  

I smile half-heartedly.  "I didn't want to interrupt your brooding time."

His expression remains unchanged.  "Whatever.  H wants us to interview Evans' partner."  

"Well, let's go," I say, adding a tinge of fake cheeriness to my voice.

Talking to Evans' partner should only be _slightly_ more depressing than talking to Tim Speedle.

*****

We've been sitting in front of Matt Evans' partner's house for almost two minutes.  Speed's been making a production of searching for something in the glove compartment.  I think he's stalling.

Finally, he turns to me.  "You need a ride home tonight?"

"Eric's taking me," I say.

"All right.  Whatever."

I shift my body so I'm facing him.  "Are we going inside?"

"Yeah, I guess," he says, letting out a breath.  "I really hate interviewing the partners."

Nodding, I say quietly.  "I know."

*****

Donald Riley meets us at the front door.  "Hey," he says amiably.  

I vaguely know him.  I worked with him on one or two cases—the same ones I worked with Matt on.  Riley has a reputation for being a pretty nice guy, and that reputation seems to be right on.

He ushers us into his living room and offers us coffee.  "My wife's out," he says.  "She's helping Emily with the arrangements."

"Emily," Speed says.  "That's Evans' wife?"

"Yeah," Riley says.  He looks away, as if to compose himself. Rubbing his hands along his pants, he says, "You tell yourself you're prepared for something like this.  But you're lying to yourself, you know?"

Speed tightens his jaw and looks away.

"I understand," I tell Riley.  

"I almost knew him better than Emily," Riley says.  "I've known him longer, and I spent more time with him."  He laughs dryly.  "Matty and I were practically married.  My wife always said Matty was her main competition."

"Lt. Riley," I say.

"Don."

"Don, do you have any idea who might have done this?"

He frowns.  "It was a robbery."

"Possibly," I say.  "But we have reason to believe it might not have been random."

Don licks his lips.  "Well, Matty was predictable, you know?  You could set your clock by him."

"So," Speed says.  "Lt. Evans frequented that gas station."

"Yeah," Don says.  "He went there every day for coffee and cookies or something."

"Who knew that?" I ask.

Don shrugs.  "Well, it wasn't a state secret."  He leans forward.  "Nobody I know would want to hurt Matty."

"Well, what about somebody you busted?" Speed asks.  

"Why do you think it wasn't a robbery?"

"You know we can't tell you that," I say.

"He was my partner," Don says.

"I know.  But we can't tell you anything."

Don slumps back on the couch, his fingers trailing along the design of a small, round throw pillow.  "Just make sure you get the guy."


End file.
